


Rebellions are built on hope – but what happens next?

by AliciaSinCiudad



Series: Tumblr-prompt stand-alones [21]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, rebellions are built on hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:25:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliciaSinCiudad/pseuds/AliciaSinCiudad
Summary: Cassian Andor had seen many people broken. By war, official or otherwise. By poverty. By impossible choices. By the sheer hopelessness of daily oppression from the Empire, and, if he was being truly honest, from the Republic before them. He had gotten used to seeing people break, and he no longer let it get to him.But sometimes, it still did.The war is over, but not everyone is celebrating. Cassian tries to cheer Luke Skywalker up.For Cassian Andor Appreciation Week 2018Day 5: Favorite Dynamic/Relationship  ❙ Alternative prompt: Hope





	Rebellions are built on hope – but what happens next?

Cassian Andor had seen many people broken. By war, by poverty, by impossible choices. By the sheer exhaustion that came with daily oppression at the hands of the Empire, and to be truly honest, at the hands of the Republic before it. Cassian had gotten used to seeing people break. He couldn’t let it get to him.

But sometimes, it still did.

Luke Skywalker had joined the Rebellion as a teenager, a fresh-faced farm boy from a sandy rock way out in the Outer Rim. Reeling from sudden loss he’d been, but still full of youthful enthusiasm. Still full of hope. Cassian couldn’t stand to see it die.

_Rebellions are built on hope,_ he’d told Erso, and she’d repeated his words to the Council on Yavin IV. Those words had become a sort of a catch-phrase, the unofficial slogan of the Rebel Alliance. Cassian heard them come back to him time and again in the five harrowing years that followed. From General Organa, bolstering the failing faith of a battle-weary soldier. From veterans, inspiring the fearful new recruits. From wise-asses, throwing the phrase around every time someone said _I hope we don’t have faux-bantha stew again tonight._ Even from Erso again, muttering to herself when she thought no one was listening. (Or maybe she _did_ know he was listening. It was hard to tell with Jyn.)

The war was over now, and many were the naïve young soldiers who thought this meant the work was over too. Cassian had been in it long enough to know that this war, any war, was merely one battle, that the fight would never truly end. Still, there might be some respite now. A chance to regroup, to look back on their accomplishments, and to enjoy a moment of peace.

Shara Bey had lost no time, had not hesitated to begin _enjoying_ right away. The wedding was so rushed, she and Dameron didn’t even bother with invitations. They just held the thing right on base, and whoever happened by was free to celebrate with them.

Bodhi Rook had gone off to visit Baze Malbus, one of the only other surviving NiJedhans. They were rebuilding there, among the ruins of that ancient pilgrim city, and Rook thought he might stay on and join them. Maybe he’d help Malbus with the scrolls he wrote in honor of that other monk Cassian had known so briefly.

Erso planned to find some out-of-the-way planet, the sandier the better, and to never think about war or rebellion again. Cassian gave her three standard weeks. It was the most generous bet in the pool.

Lando Calrissian had returned to Cloud City. Class stratification had worsened in his absence, and he’d realized that he needed to make some changes before it became another Canto Bight. If some of Cassian’s favorite jackets happened to go missing the day he left, it was surely just a coincidence. As was the appearance of a sun-yellow shimmersilk cape, hanging in their place in Cassian’s closet.

But what of the fresh-faced farm boy? The brash young hotshot who’d destroyed the Death Star, twice? The sandy-haired kid, whose care and faith and _hope_ had made even the most cynical smuggler stick around to join the fight? That young boy was dead and gone, replaced by a stony-faced Jedi. The last one, as far as anyone knew. So many millennia of tradition would die, at last, with him. Would be extinguished as completely as the young man’s once-frequent smile.

Cassian couldn’t bear it. He’d been young once, too. He’d believed in the inherent goodness of people, in a kind of a cosmic justice – and he’d had it all crushed out of him by the time he was six years old. But Luke hadn’t, and that had saved him. Had saved the galaxy. He couldn’t lose it now, not when they finally had the chance to put down their weapons and be free.

Since the war had officially ended, most of the soldiers had packed up their things and gone home. The only ones left on base were the ones without a home to go to. At meals, some of them huddled together in small clumps, but others took advantage of the sudden availability of empty tables in the mess hall. Cassian nodded to General Draven, but passed by his (former?) commanding officer, approaching instead the equally solitary Skywalker. The young man looked up, surprised, as Cassian sat down beside him.

“Captain Cassian Andor,” Cassian said in greeting.

“I know who you are,” Skywalker replied. He smiled ironically, adding, “I assume you know who _I_ am, too, don’t you?”

Cassian nodded silently, a bit taken aback. He hadn’t thought he was important enough to be recognized by a galactic hero, and he wasn’t sure how to address him either.

“Well, you can just call me Luke,” the young Jedi responded off-handedly. “No title needed. The war is over, apparently, so we’re all civilians now.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “I guess so. That’ll take some getting used to. I haven’t been a civilian since I was six years old.”

Luke’s eyes widened, and his cynical mask slipped. “Six?” he breathed. “You mean – But – That’s terrible! You were a child!”

“I didn’t officially join up until I was eight,” Cassian amended, but Luke’s eyes only grew wider. “I mean, twelve?” This conversation was not going the way Cassian had hoped.

“I was nineteen when I joined up,” Luke said, staring off into the distance. “I thought I was so young. I was just sheltered, I guess. _Six,_ ” he repeated with a touch of despair.

“That’s just what I’d like to talk to you about,” Cassian said firmly, pleased to see Luke turn back to face him, his dazed look fading. “Nineteen _should be_ young. It _is_ young. These children growing up now, and the ones who come after them – they won’t have to fight like we did. They’ll get to have a real childhood, a peaceful one, in a free galaxy. And we have to help shape that galaxy for them.”

“Shape the galaxy…” Luke turned away again. “And what do you propose? What master plan do you have for the galaxy’s glorious new future?” His voice was bitter.

“No, not like that!” He shook his head vehemently. “Please, I’m from a Separatist planet, I would _never_ suggest taking away choice, when it’s finally become possible again. But what _are_ the choices for these children? Freedom is a half-gift if there’s nothing left to hope for.”

“Rebellions are built on hope,” Luke quipped ironically. Then he started, embarrassed. “Oh, shavit, I’m sorry! I forgot you were the one –”

But Cassian just laughed, and Luke relaxed. “We don’t have to reuse those tired old words anymore,” Cassian said, half-smiling. “It’s not a rebellion now. It’s peace. It’s possibility.” His smile faded, and his expression turned earnest. “So, what will you bring to it?”

Luke shrugged, looking away. “I don’t know what I can bring. I don’t even know how to _feel_ right now. I know I should be happy – ecstatic even – but honestly, I just feel tired.” He sighed. “I reconciled with my father, I saw the good in him, got him to see the good in _himself,_ just in time to lose him. We won the war, and I’m thrilled, I really am. But once the parties died down… I just feel like I don’t know where to go next.”

“It’s normal to feel this way,” Cassian assured him, hoping it was true. “Take your time. But don’t wallow. Just think – what is it you wish _you_ had had, when you were younger?”

“A teacher,” Luke said without hesitation. “I don’t mean that I never went to school or anything. But I wish I’d had more training as a Jedi. I got about three lessons from Master Kenobi before losing him, and then I had longer with Master Yoda, but it still wasn’t enough. He made me feel so stupid, giving me these basic lessons when I was already fully grown. I wish I’d had those lessons as a kid, like I was supposed to.”

“So that’s what you can offer,” Cassian said with a smile.

Luke perked up, his eyes regaining their old brightness. “I guess you’re right.” He smiled again, this time without irony, Cassian felt his heart lift. “I may not be the best teacher,” Luke continued, “but I’m the best we’ve got, for now at least. I won’t let that go to waste.”

“Good.” Cassian smiled encouragingly. “Now all you need is children.”

“Are you propositioning my brother?”

“W-what?” Cassian sputtered, whipping around. Princess Leia – General Organa – _whatever_ she was going by nowadays – was standing half a meter away, smiling that enigmatic smile of hers. “N-no, Your Highness – _General_ – I was just…”

“Call me Leia. As my brother keeps telling me, _we’re all civilians now._ What were you saying about children, then?”

Cassian struggled to regain his composure, ignoring the mirth in Luke’s eyes. This was the thanks he got for trying to cheer the boy up? “I was just saying, Your – _Leia_ – that Luke should become a teacher. Train the next generation of Jedi. And for that, he’ll need children. N-not necessarily his own,” he added, blushing under Leia’s amused smirk. How could such a young woman be so intimidating?

“Oh, good, so borrowed will do?” she asked off-handedly. “That’s good to know because – and I haven’t told anyone else, not even Han, and I will kill you both if _anyone_ finds out about this – you just might have your first student soon.”

Luke’s eyes lit up again. “Oh, Leia, that’s wonderful news! Congratulations!”

“Shh!” she hissed, but she was still smiling. Cassian took the opportunity to start to slink away.

“Hold on, Cassian. What about you?” Luke asked, and Cassian sat back down, chagrined.

“What about me?” Cassian asked innocently.

“What will _you_ offer to this Glorious New Future?”

Cassian shrugged.

“Glorious New Future?” Leia asked, arching an eyebrow.

“The post-Empire galaxy. Cassian was reminding me that we have to keep working, to make sure things actually get better. And that we all have something to offer. So, I can train the next generation of Jedi. You can rebuild the Senate, free from corruption. Han can, I don’t know, tell amusing stories? Ferry you around?”

Leia laughed. “He’s good for more than that, you know.”

“Spare me the details, please,” Luke groaned. He turned back to Cassian. “So if _everyone_ has something to offer, well, what about you?”

Cassian’s stomach clenched. He was a seasoned spy, could charm his way out of any situation, could convince almost anybody of almost anything. But some lies, he had trouble convincing himself. His fingernails were suddenly very interesting. “I – I gave a lot in the war,” he hedged. “And before the war. Like I said, I’ve been in this fight since I was six years old. So maybe I don’t have anything left to give now. But that’s ok, I already did my part.”

Leia laughed again, and Cassian looked up, bewildered. “Don’t be stupid,” she scoffed. “You just brought my brother out of the funk I’ve been failing to get him out of for _weeks_. You do know what you just gave him, don’t you?”

Cassian shook his head, at a loss for words.

_“Hope.”_

Cassian let out his breath, and started to smile.

The twins added, in perfect unison, “And rebellions are built on hope.”

Leia gently placed her hand on her still-flat stomach. “And the Glorious New Future is built on hope, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then everything works out great. It's fine.
> 
>  
> 
> (In case it wasn't clear - this is not a pro-Kylo Ren fic. This is meant to look all warm and fuzzy and Full of Hope until you think about how Space Hitler is in the making.)


End file.
